


musical chairs

by satendou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild reluctance, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Parental gaslighting, Pseudo-Incest, Step-Sibling Incest, no prep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27057514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satendou/pseuds/satendou
Summary: when semi can’t seem to keep himself together, he turns to you
Relationships: Semi Eita/Reader
Kudos: 74





	musical chairs

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i know. no, i don't care.

you could hear them again, screaming and yelling at each other and your heart thumped hard in your throat. your stepfather and stepbrother were going at it again, probably over something to do with school and his music, because that’s what it almost always was. the whole household was walking on eggshells around the two of them, waiting for the next time something would set them off.

semi was tired, you knew that. he was tired of his father always shoving his wants and desires down semi’s throat in an attempt to make him into what his father had wanted to be when semi just wanted to make music. you knew as much because, though the two of you weren’t _extremely_ close, you were also the only one who understood what he was going through, having been stepsiblings for going on ten years at that point. there was an age gap between you that meant, until you were older, the two of you had had different friend groups and interests.

when semi expressed a desire to pursue a musical career, it was quickly declined, being told that his future was set towards a doctorate degree and nothing less. it was the first time semi had exploded, startling you at the sink and causing you to shatter the cup you were holding.

he had come to apologize later for causing you to hurt yourself, taking your bandaged hand and rubbing it gently for a moment before quietly asking why they couldn’t understand. you yourself didn’t understand and it made you feel almost guilty because they wholeheartedly supported your own career choice– psychology, with a minor in social services. it was a nice, stable path, they said, unlike semi’s, which would be tumultuous and unfulfilling– for them.

it was unusual to see the strong willed semi so unsure of himself and for a while you just sat there with him in silence, unsure of what to say to him until you finally asked, “how bad do you want it, eita? i don’t– i can’t say you absolutely _should_ ignore what they say, but if you really won’t be happy until you’ve at least tried then… maybe you should.”

semi had looked at you with a pensive expression and then sighed. “they won’t be happy.”

you squeezed his hand and gave him a smile, though it was thin with worry. “i’ll support you, eita. your music is amazing, you’ll do well if you have the chance, i know it.”

the transformation in his face was staggering, and it made your heart skip a beat to see the smile that spread across it. you couldn’t blame him for wanting to pursue his dreams, and you certainly wouldn’t tell him he shouldn’t.

the fighting started more frequently after that, a lot of it revolving around him going out to open mic nights at clubs, bars, and cafes– anywhere he could get some stage time. you also learned shortly after that that he had dropped some of his courses and replaced them with musical theory classes and the like, asking you to help keep his cover, which you agreed to without hesitation. for the most part, he had kept you from getting involved or blowing that you were supporting him behind the scenes. you often pretended that semi was studying with you while he was actually practicing his songs or out at mic nights. on nights when he couldn’t use you was when the fights would escalate, except today it seemed that it wasn’t about just his music.

there was the sound of slamming doors and then the house fell silent, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but there was something heavier than usual in it, as if something had irreparably changed. sitting up on your bed, you strained your ears and picked up the lightest footsteps coming up the stairs. they stopped just outside your bedroom and the gentle rap on your door indicated who it was, and you called him in quietly.

“eita,” you whispered, reaching out to him. his eyes were rimmed red and his mouth was twisted in a feral scowl which, in another instance, might have frightened you. but you knew without a doubt that it wasn’t directed at you, and he collapsed face down on your bed, groaning into the blanket. “what was that about?”

you had to scoot closer to hear his muffled voice against the fabric as he said, “they found out i switched my classes. they opened my _fucking_ mail.”

“fuck, i’m so sorry, eita,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair. there was a lot of tension in his shoulders even after he relaxed under your touch. “what are you gonna do?”

he shrugged before rolling onto his back. his long fingers wrapped around your hand as he did and pulled you down to splay across his chest. you wiggled around frantically, hoping to hide your fiery face before he could see it and ended up tucking your head beneath his chin. the sound of his heartbeat was erratic in your ear, belying how nervous he was under his aggravated facade.

“they want me to change the courses back or they’ll stop helping me pay,” he whispered, and his arm tightened around you.

a startled gasp flew from your lips and you pulled up, turning your body halfway so you were hovering over him. “no way, they– those _assholes_. i don’t– why can they not just accept what you want to do? i don’t _get it_.”

he smiled at that, a cold uptick at the corners of his lips as he said, “of course you don’t. _you’re_ doing exactly what they want.”

the reaction was instant.

your shoulders deflated and you pulled away, sitting up cross-legged behind him. it wasn’t exactly _your_ fault you happened to enjoy something they approved of. turning your head away, you stared at the closet door, biting the inside of your lip to stem the tears stinging your eyes. 

semi’s lips parted and he sat up as well, shifting the mattress beside you while he scratched the back of his neck. “i– sorry, that didn’t come out the way i meant it to. you’ve always been their golden child without even meaning to. i know you enjoy what you’re doing, it’s just that they actually approve of what you’re doing. wish i could do that too.”

“you’re fine just the way you are, eita,” you whispered, turning back to look at him. you could still feel the tears sitting in your eyes, not quite heavy enough to fall but definitely there, and semi’s hand came up to cup your cheek. his brows were furrowed, guilt evident on his face, and you covered his hand with yours. “you should do what makes you happy, not force yourself to live the life they wanted to have.”

the room grew silent after you said that, unsure of what to say from there even though he wanted to disagree. it would make things so much easier if he just gave in and stopped fighting, and he wouldn’t have to worry about funding or how he was going to pay for the classes he _did_ want to take. he propped his elbow up on his knee, resting his chin on it as he stared forlornly at your bedroom door, listening to the bed shift until there was a soft touch on his shoulder.

your head was resting on his shoulder, arm wound around his in an effort to comfort him, and he smiled. his lips pressed to the top of your head, eyes closing while a feeling of fondness overcame him. how he had never noticed, before this whole thing started, what a sweet person you were was beyond him and he realized what an idiot he had been to ignore you all this time.

“thank you, by the way. i don’t say it enough, but i probably wouldn’t still be trying if you weren’t encouraging me,” he said against your hair, and felt you nuzzle against his neck. warmth rushed through him at the small gesture of affection, and he had to resist the urge to pull you closer. he wouldn’t consider himself a _bad_ older brother. whenever you needed help studying, he would walk you through the steps or if you had to stay late at school for an extra curricular, he would wait around to walk you home. it was just that there was a disconnect, a _distance_ between the two of you that had a lot to do with age and his own self-absorption– and he would be the first to admit he _was_ pretty full of himself sometimes.

“that’s okay, eita. i want you to be happy and I’ll support you however you need,” you whispered, squeezing his arm. “wanna go get something to eat?”

“that sounds great,” he said, pulling you to your feet.

–

again. a-fucking- _gain_ , they were fighting. you could hear stomping and yelling, cabinets slamming and what ultimately sounded like glass shattering. it fell silent just after that, and you sat in your bed with your head in your hands, just listening to the eerie quiet.

after a moment, there was a quiet conversation that made you more nervous than the yelling, and then footsteps passed your bedroom door. a door closed downstairs and a light flicked on out in the hallway, and you stood up and opened your door to find semi hovering over the sink in the bathroom, the water running a vivid red that set your anxiety off.

“what happened?” you murmured, pulling his hand out from under the stream. 

he winced as you picked up a clean hand towel and pressed hard against the wound to staunch the bleeding. “i was holding a glass and squeezed it too hard. he told me it’s stupid to pursue a career when _i have no talent_.”

where there should have been bitterness or anger in his voice, you heard cold amusement and defeat, and looked up at him. “that isn’t true, eita. i’m an expert, i would know.”

your joke fell flat and his chuckle was humorless and empty while he watched you examine the cut on his hand. it was shallow and had already stopped bleeding, not even requiring a bandage, and he flexed his fingers. “i think i’m just going to quit. this isn’t worth it,” he said, so quietly you would have missed it if you weren’t standing close enough to touch him.

sadness welled up, a quiet ache filling your chest for your sweet stepbrother, who was sometimes an ass and kind of a narcissist. cupping his cheek in one soft hand, his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch, frowning as you said, “if you really feel that way, then you should step back. but don’t let them tell you you wouldn’t make it. i _know_ you would, eita-nii. you’ve never let anything hold you back when you really wanted it, and your music is amazing. you fill up those mic nights, it’s only a matter of time until someone sees you.”

his lips pursed and he looked at you, a quiet sadness in his eyes that you were sure mirrored your own as he said, “i’m not sure i’m passionate enough about it anymore, _____. they’ve taken it out of me. maybe i won’t go down the path they want me to but… i don’t know if i _want_ to pursue music anymore.”

that _was_ surprising, at least for a moment, and then you realized how normal that was. when you were forced to choose between the thing you loved and people you love, sometimes the love for the thing faded away because of it. you just hoped semi didn’t come to resent them too much, though they would deserve it.

“what do you think you’ll do?” you asked, linking your fingers with his. his skin was cool and soft, worn from years of volleyball and _strong_ – you could feel it in the way he squeezed your hand, that he could hurt you if he wanted but he didn’t. it was comforting and made you feel safe, and you found yourself lost in the sadness swimming in his eyes.

he took a step forward and you took a step back, the motion repeating until you were backed into your bedroom, the door closing with a soft click behind him. the bed creaked beneath you as he forced you to sit before climbing on beside you. he picked up the remote for your tv and clicked the power button, mulling over your question.

he wasn’t really sure, truth be told. it was something he had been thinking about for a while but when he really _thought_ about it, he couldn’t see himself doing anything else. but the fighting was too much right now, he was too tired of trying to make them understand him to want to do it anymore, so he would find something else to focus on.

you were warm beside him, staring up at him with bemused concern as he scowled at your tv. if anyone else were to look at semi right now, they would think he was pissed, but you knew better. it was easy to see the sadness, and the confusion and fear beneath it on his face. music was something he had been wholeheartedly _set_ on, and all of a sudden he was adrift, unsure of himself. even though he didn’t answer, you knew what it was already.

_i don’t know_. 

it was written all over his face, _screaming_ at you and you stretched your arms out to him. 

he allowed himself to be engulfed in your arms, curling his massive frame down over you and resting his chin on your shoulder. his eyes remained locked on the flickering screen, unseeing as you rubbed his back and, in the end, he gave into the urge to hide his face in your neck. 

releasing a long suffering sigh, he sagged into you, but his weight was too much to bear and you fell backwards into the mattress, pulling him down on top of you.

praying he couldn’t hear your heart pounding away in your pulse, you relaxed into your pillows and wiggled until you could see the tv. he had put an anime on, probably one tendo had recommended to him, and it was at least interesting enough to keep your attention.

until semi’s hands started to move.

it started off with him adjusting his head so he could watch tv, his hair tickling your neck before his fingers started tracing patterns over your clothed stomach. you giggled and swatted at his hand and he snickered, pretending to stop until you were relaxed again and then he attacked, pinning you down while he tickled your stomach and sides.

you squealed, curling down on yourself for a moment before reaching for one of the pillows beneath your head. raining blows down on him, he used one arm to shield himself while the other continued to attack. he was straddling your hips by then while you bucked up, trying to throw him off. it was a miracle you didn’t wake your parents up with your laughter and squeaking bed frame, but by the time you were done you were out of breath, residual laughter lingering in the air between you.

staring up at him, cheeks red and eyes finally alight with something other than that lingering sadness, lips parted as he panted above you. like a switch was flipped, you realized two things simultaneously: one, the position you were in, laying beneath him as you were and two, that he was rock hard against your stomach.

“shit, sorry,” he muttered when he caught sight of your eyes widening. he made no move to get off though, continuing to stare down at you with an unfathomable look, taking in the flush in your cheeks and nervous, not quite repulsed glimmer in your eyes. your arms were spread out across the bed beside you, and you tensed when he finally moved off to the side. “roll over.”

“huh?” you said intelligently, giving him a confused look.

he sighed, pushing at your hip. “roll over. onto your stomach.”

even as you do so, you say, “um, i don’t think we should–”

but he cut you off, coming to rest over your thighs, and you clammed up upon feeling his hands slide up your shirt and over your back. you could feel his hard on, resting now between the cheeks of your ass and you were nervous but not in the way you should have been at having your brother groping you. swallowing thickly when his fingertips grazed the sides of your breasts, you wiggled and he tutted you.

“don’t fight, princess. i know you’re wet already,” he said, voice a low, not-quite-whisper in your ear and you whined quietly. his fingers hooked in the waistband of the shorts you were wearing and pulled, slowly peeling them down. you tensed your thighs to hide the fact that he was right, you were _soaked_ but his sharp eyes didn’t miss the way your panties _peeled_ off your slick folds or the wet spot that had been left behind on them. “oh hell.”

you bit your lip when he ghosted over the round cheeks of your ass, barely a touch against your skin and then he squeezed, parting your lips so he could get a peek at your soaked cunt. it was almost surreal, your head spinning as you wondered how you went from a playfight to semi practically eyefucking you. it was impossible to wrap your head around and you jumped when he moved so he was sitting between your legs, spreading your thighs far enough that he could lay between them..

“e-eita–,” you called out quietly, not sure what you want from him when the first swipe of his tongue covered your pussy from your clit up to your clenching hole. “mm, wait, please, we–”

“it’s too late, princess,” he groaned against you, feeling you jerk hard in his hands. he looped his arms beneath your hips and canted your hips up so he could devour you with ease. “you taste so fucking good, i couldn’t stop even if i wanted to.”

the way his tongue flicked at your clit sent shocks through you, and your toes curled when he forced his tongue into your spongy walls, filling you up. he lapped at your walls, tasting you with another groan before returning to your clit. already, you could feel your orgasm building, something about not being able to see him taking you right up to the edge and when he dipped his tongue into you again, you came with a cry, legs bending at the knee and back arching down into the bed.

he continued to eat you out for another moment, until you were trembling and trying to get away, releasing your clit with a wet pop. before you could say anything, a complaint or otherwise, he was sliding his shorts down his legs and throwing his shirt over the side of the bed. both hit the floor with a faint noise, and then your shirt joined them. you didn’t argue when he settled over you again, pinning your thighs together between his while he settled his cock between the cheeks of your ass.

you knew it was going to happen regardless of if you asked him to stop. the part of you that felt it was wrong was growing smaller and smaller anyway as he rocked his hips, the soft skin of his hard cock sliding between your cheeks, occasionally dipping down to nudge your entrance. you could how big he was and your toes curled every time he seemed like he was about to slide into you. he would pull back though, and you could feel your juices on his skin, smearing it across yours.

“i don’t hear you complaining anymore, princess,” he said, and you could practically _feel_ the smugness radiating off of him. he stilled above you, hands squeezing and kneading your flesh and you craned your neck to look up at him. 

you nearly stopped his heart when he caught sight of your flushed face and lips swollen from nibbling on them, eyes wide and glittery while you whined, “i’m not, eita-nii. please, i– please put it in, i want it–”

oh _fuck_.

his cock throbbed at your words, at the _nickname_ , so innocent and yet you used it _now_.

“fuck, whatever you want, pretty girl,” he whispered, barely containing his own need as he positioned himself at your entrance. he knew it was cruel, not prepping you when he was as big as he is, but you were such a good girl, he knew you would take it without complaining.

much.

even just the tip was enough to make you whine, nails digging into the comforter beneath you and you used that to try and pull away as he forced more of himself into you. it was a heady mix of pain and pleasure; you wanted it so bad you could taste it but the pain of him forcing you open was almost too much. it didn’t even feel like you were _stretching_ , he was just pushing everything out of the way to make room for his girth.

your teeth sank into the pillow to stifle your scream, drool dripping onto the fabric as your eyes fluttered and rolled, focus narrowing down to the incredible feeling of him buried deep inside you. as pretty as you acknowledged him to be, this wasn’t something you had ever fantasized about and you were wondering if he was going to split you in half when he finally stopped. you took a deep breath, ready to cry in relief when he pulled back out and pushed in again, your cunt already partially open and offering no resistance as he worked to hilt himself inside you. 

it took a few more thrusts that left you winded and crying before his hips finally met yours and, just as he said, you didn’t complain once. 

not that you could when he took your breath away with each thrust.

he braced himself up on his elbows over you, muscles tense on either side of your head, and you tilted it back to look up at him. his face was swimming in your vision, but you thought he was smiling even though he was panting.

and he was, even though his face was twisted with pleasure over how tight you were squeezing around him. he could feel you pulsing around him, still trying to suck him in deeper even though he was already nestled right against your cervix. there was something so _wrong_ about being buried balls deep inside you, his little sister, someone he grew up in the same house with for so many years. it was taboo, wrong, _fucked_ up and he pulled his hips back to your stifled whines before slamming back into you with abandon.

the noise you made was choked and high pitched and he throbbed at it, doing it again just to see if you would make it again and he was rewarded for his efforts. he wasn’t going to last long with you choking his cock like that. the tight fit made incredible noises, your pussy gushing around him and dribbling down to the blanket, and they filled the room along with your muffled noises. he was grateful you had the forethought to silence yourself as his hips slammed into yours because he couldn’t hold back even if he wanted to.

your legs kicked up against his back because he was grazing the swollen, spongy spot inside you with every thrust and you could feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls. it felt like he was dragging himself out of you every time and you gasped when he snapped back in, cunt stretching with the effort to take him even though he was fucking you like he was trying to imprint the shape of his cock into you.

his hair was matted to his forehead and there were red marks where his fingers were digging into your hips but it didn’t phase either one of you as you tightened up around him, cunt fluttering as you teetered on the edge. 

you’d never cum without pressure on your clit but there was a spot inside you that he kept fucking _rubbing_ and you were going to lose your mind. the whines that fell from your lips were mindless, eyes streaming tears and you thought it was going to be too much just as the coil snapped and your whole body tensed because he _wouldn’t stop moving_. you screamed into the pillow, a loud, whiny noise as he hips continued to roll, forcing your twitching walls to part around and pressing into the spot that made you cum in the first place and the bed below you soaks.

he knew you squirted, knew you were too sensitive and when you were trembling with overstimulation he stopped and let himself cum deep inside you with a broken, rough moan. his fingers bit into your hips and ass, keeping you still until he was done and then he collapsed over top of you, forehead resting on his arm beside your face and he saw that your eyes were closed.

at least you released the pillow.

when he had finally caught his breath, he nuzzled your cheek and you sighed, leaning into it. after a moment, you turned your head and bumped his nose, blindly seeking something and sighed again when his lips met yours. the corners of your mouth turned up and he can taste salt on his tongue and he worried for a moment that he might actually have hurt you.

“are you okay? you aren’t hurt, are you?” he whispered, unwilling to break the soft afterglow between the two of you, and you shook your head.

“no, i’m okay,” you answered, just as softly, and moveed so that your arm pressed to his.

balancing his weight carefully, he linked his fingers with yours, moving your arms up above your head, so that his chest was plastered against your back and you were fully encased in his arms. “eita, what now?”

he shrugged, breathing evenly against your cheek and pressing small kisses to your skin. “what do you want to happen?”

you mimicked him, shrugging as best you can beneath him and bit your lip. “i don’t know. can we even _be_ anything? and would it end well if we wanted to be? i just…”

his normally sharp eyes softened as you stared up at him, doubt and confusion and worry all twisting your sweet face into a grimace, and he squeezed your hands. “we’ve only lived together for how many years? we already know each other’s bad habits and negative traits. we’d probably do a lot better than most.”

“what about _them_?” you persisted, and he knew you meant your parents. but there was a tinge of hope to your question, a little less tension in your body beneath him, and he kissed you full on the lips again.

“what about them? if we’re careful, they won’t know the difference,” he answered, breathing the words against your lips. he was over talking now, your wet cunt still gripping his cock and he could feel himself hardening again. 

a careful roll of his hips produced a gasp and a whine, and your fingers squeezed down on his like your walls were around his shaft, buried all the way inside you. 

“e-eita-nii,” you whined, lips parting in a quiet moan as he slid slowly out and back in. you were so loose and relaxed now that he had no issue slipping back inside with a wet squelch, groaning into your ear as you swallow him whole.

“feels so good, princess. ‘m not leaving this hole all night, i promise,” he whispered, and he can feel you trying to rock your hips back into his.

“fill me up, eita-nii,” you begged, voice ragged with need. there was already a throbbing between your legs, each drag of his cockhead over your walls leading you towards your high for a third time. “want all of you inside me, all the time.”

he growled at that, jerking his hips hard and forcing himself into you so fast it took your breath away. “don’t ask for things you can’t handle, pretty girl. i’d hate to break you so soon.”

a shudder ran through you at that, his words filled with dark promise and a question, and you breathed out shakily.

“break me, eita. please, please, _break me_.”


End file.
